Parental Advisory
by Amber Akasha
Summary: Eleven-year-old Harry Potter is visited by the Headmaster, McGonagall and Snape, who are to introduce him to magic. How could that conversation turn out to be, when Harry has some pretty twisted mind? rated for language
1. Meeting Harry

_Story: Parental Advisory_

_Summary: Eleven-year-old Harry Potter is visited by the Headmaster, McGonagall and Snape, who are to introduce him to magic. How the conversation could turn, when Harry has some pretty twisted mind?_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his characters._

_Hope you enjoy it!_

_Hum...english is my second language, so please point out the errors so I can correct them._

_**Thanks to ****siriuslives394****, who was so nice as to check the whole thing for errors and gracefully corrected them.**_

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The three wizards apparated to Mss Figg's house, with one objective in mind: getting Harry Potter enrolled in Hogwarts. As the teen had only replied to the letter number 46 –or was it 47?- most clearly thinking it all a joke, they had decided to take it upon themselves. Well, Albus and Minerva had decided to take it upon themselves; Severus had been rather forcefully dragged along.

They walked along the ordinary street, surrounded by ordinary houses, each one identical to the other, and paused before one of them, which had a golden sign with the number four on it. They then knocked on the white, common door. Seconds after they could hear a muffled shout coming from the house, and light steps approaching. The door opened, though not completely, and from the dark hall a small head appeared, bright green eyes peering at them curiously.

'Good afternoon, Mister Potter' said the aged Headmaster, happily sucking his favorite candy. 'Lemon drop?'

The shocked teen shook his head.

'Who are you?' he asked, pointedly looking at the three of them in undisguised contempt. 'And why the hell are you all wearing dresses?'

The three wizards stared in shocked silence at the small teenager.

Dumbledore was, once again, the one to take the lead.

'May we come in, dear? We'd like to have a word with you and your relatives, if you're not too busy?'

The teenager regarded him suspiciously, but he opened the door wider nonetheless.

'Uncle Vernon! Aunt Petunia! Some people in dresses here want to speak with you!' he shouted, once inside.

They all sat in the living room, and were offered tea from a pained-looking Petunia, whose offer was turned down by all but the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress.

Once they were all seated, Dumbledore began the introductions.

'My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and these are Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress, and Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and Potions Master. We are here to speak with young Harry. I believe you have received our letters?'

'You are the stalkers who sent me all that letters?' the teen in question asked, jumping from his chair and moving slightly towards the other side of the room.

Dumbledore beamed.

'Yep! That's it. So now that we've talked about it, my dear boy, you have to come with us'. He answered, clearly too coughstonedcough to make sense of what he was hearing, and going along with his usual speech. He then reached towards Harry, to grab his arm and apparate to Hogsmeade.

'Wait a moment' the teen shouted, jumping back. 'Wait a moment, man! I have to come with you?'

The double meaning he was giving to the words seemed to go over both Dumbledore's and Minerva's heads, but Severus felt his mood lighten slightly, already looking forward the conversation.

'We have to get you some robes, and a wand, and maybe teach you a few charms too...How to levitate things with your magic will probably be the best start! And maybe we could look into a broom, too...' the Headmaster ranted, thinking of the shopping they had to do, and happily popping another candy in his mouth.

'What's a robe? And what do you mean by wand? And why would I need a broom, of all things?'

'A robe is the usual way for wizards to dress, just like we do now, and a wand is rather like a magic stick, really...We ride brooms to play the most popular magical game, in which the players ride in brooms, trying to catch two balls and avoid getting hit by other two, while looking for a third, smaller one...'

'Ok, stop just for a moment there. You mean to tell me I'm supposed to buy a ** dress, and use my "little wand" to make something levitate? Can someone spell cross-dressing?' he then turned to the Dursleys. 'They expect me to use my "magic stick" to make things rise! WTF, that's parental advisory! Are you selling me to sex-slave traders or what? And don't even get me started on that riding-broom thing!'

Minerva looked ready to faint. Severus couldn't help but raise an eyebrow derisively.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed to be far too gone to understand a word of what the boy was saying, and was beaming happily at him.

'Exactly, my boy.'

The boy in question seemed to pale further with every word uttered by the aged man.

Severus felt the corners of his mouth twitching.

Harry looked ready to drop dead.

McGonagall tried to intervene before things got ugly...errr...uglier.

'Mister Potter, what the Headmaster means to tell you is-'

'The Head-Master? Really, woman, I'm just a kid! What kind of perverts are you?'

'Mister Potter, that's not what I meant at all!' answered the blushing Deputy Headmistress. 'Mr. Dumbledore is the School's Headmaster, and no, it's not a slave's school,' she added, seeing as he was about to speak 'it's a magic school. We teach Witchcraft and Wizardry, not only how to "rise things", as you so graciously put it.'

Potter stopped ranting for a moment, looking at the Headmaster thoughtfully, and Severus almost pouted. Damn, he was having fun!

'I...see. So, what school did you say you were from? Hogwarts? I seem to recall Madame Maxime telling me about a Potions Master in your staff...youngest in a century, if I'm not mistaken...'

The three professors stared at him dumbstruck.

'I've been told your Quidditch Pitch isn't quite up to standards, though...'

'You mean to tell me you have already spoken with representatives of other schools?' asked Minerva incredulously.

'Hum...yeah? Salem Institute's were the first, about, maybe, two years ago? And I've since seen Dumstrang's, Beauxbatons', Shri Lanka's and Salamanca School for the Gifted's. You're actually the last ones I was expecting.'

Severus couldn't help it: he smirked.

Minerva, on the other hand, was livid.

'If you knew about magic, why did you raise such a ruckus about it?'

'To make you understand how muggleborns see your little speech, of course.'

'Really, my boy?' inquired the aged Headmaster, eyes twinkling madly.

'Nah, not really. But it was fun all the same!' he admitted, his innocent façade not wavering in the slightest.

Severus smirk deepened, and he couldn't contain an amused snort.

'So, Harry, have you already decided which school you'll be going to?' asked Dumbledore, at last coming down from his cloud.

The teen looked at him thoughtfully, and eyed curiously Severus' smirk. He then glanced at Minerva's furious frown and giggled, nodding slowly.

'Yep!' he answered with a bright smile. 'Hogwarts sounds the most fun so far!'

Severus snickered.

He was in for a very interesting year.

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_R&R? Please? Sarcastic-Harry-shaped cookies for every reviewer! _


	2. Diagon Alley

_By popular petition, here is chapter two of Parental Advisory. Hope you like it!_

_(The disclaimer from first chapter still applies!)_

_**Thanks to ****siriuslives394****, who was so nice as to check the whole thing for errors and gracefully corrected them.**_

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**Parental Advisory II: Diagon Alley**

Per the Headmaster's insistence Harry had agreed on an escort in his trip to Diagon Alley. Severus had, once again, been reluctantly dragged along for the trip, though we have to say in his defence Hagrid had been the only member of the staff to volunteer after both the Headmaster and Minerva's recounting of their visit to Number 4, Privet Drive.

Snape and a huge man Harry didn't know walked towards Number 4 from Mss Fig's house. They had decided against muggle transportation and instead they'd be flooing to a connection noodle from her house and then apparating near the Leaky Cauldron. They would have flooded straight to the pub, but his apparition at the place would most probably cause a stir and flooing was easily traceable; there was no need to make Harry's direction public knowledge.

Harry was introduced to the giant, and not feeling in the mood to talk he soon fell silent besides Snape. Hagrid's attempts at conversation went unacknowledged and by the time they arrived at London he had stopped trying to strike a conversation with the teen altogether.

Harry's eyes slid from a bookstore to a record shop. As Snape strode with purpose towards them, suddenly a building seemed to pop up between the two shops. It was a dingy, little old-looking pub with a run down sign that proclaimed 'the Leaky Cauldron' –the last "o" was missing, apparently having fallen a long time ago- hanging above the door. The inside was no better than the outside. It was dark and shabby, with a strong sense of stagnation to it. Here and there robe-wearing people sat at the tables, talking and drinking, with the occasional shout mixed in. Some of them turned to look at the newcomers, smiling warmly at the half-giant and averting their gazes as soon as they caught sight of the sour potion's professor.

'It's like we stepped back in time.' muttered Harry darkly.

While Hagrid seemed eager to stop at the pub and procure some drinks, Severus' tight-lipped expression dissuaded him and soon he was leading them out the back door to a small, walled courtyard. There was nothing there but trash and overgrown weeds. Harry glanced around and was most obviously about to say something scathing when Snape stepped forward and started counting bricks, tapping them with his wand. The bricks started quivering as he ended the pattern of 'taps' and quickly the whole wall was wriggling as if about to fall. The bricks then began to move and rearranged themselves into a large archway that opened onto a crowded street Harry had to assume was no other than Diagon Alley.

'Welcome to Diagon Alley.' Announced Hagrid, clearly expecting Harry to act all wide-eyed and fascinated. As if. It looked medieval.

'No planned urbanization. How quaint.' Muttered the teen, feeling sarcastic. In the mood to rant, he turned on Hagrid, who he was sure would be a much more willing... 'participant' than Severus would ever be. 'I'll never understand why they chose a dingy pub, clearly not children-friendly, as the entrance to the Wizarding World's main representative in Great Britain. Really. It's stupid. And look! There are no signs. How are we supposed to find our way?' whined the teen.

Ignoring both the half-giant and Potter's chatter, Snape steered them towards Gringotts.

Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the impressive snowy white building looming ahead of them. Now _that_ was style!

'That is Gringotts, the wizarding bank.' Hagrid explained, nodding at a goblin that guarded the imposing bronze doors. 'That's a goblin. They run the bank; they are the only creatures you would want guarding your money. They hate wizards, though. Nasty little buggers.'

Now, Harry knew about magic, but nothing in his life had prepared him to meet a room full of goblins, counting coins, examining sparkling gems and other trinkets with thick eyepieces.

When they managed to be attended by one of the free goblins, the creature looked down at them in distaste as he motioned them to follow another goblin. Harry seemed fascinated by the creatures, and wouldn't stop asking about the bank until they arrived at his vault. The vicious-looking goblin, named Griphook, had apparently taken an instant liking to the boy, and his razor-shaped smile had a less sinister edge when directed at the teen. Though Severus would never say so, he was almost sure the goblin had taken them on an unnecessary tour around the vaults in the way back, as Harry had been enjoying the roller coaster-like ride.

'Goblins rule.' Stated Harry as they walked down the busy street outside of Gringotts. He had a crazed-looking smile a mile long and he still had trouble getting his breath under control after the exhilarating ride. 'That was so much _fun_!'

The sun shinned down from above and gave light to the bustling area full of witches and wizards going about their shopping. He skipped down the street, head swivelling in all directions as he tried to take in the sights all in once, previous bad mood forgotten.

'Here we are.' voiced Hagrid, stopping in front of a narrow, shabby shop. The letters above the door in faded gold proclaimed the shop _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ 'I'd rather wait outside, if you don't mind. It'll be a little crowded in there.'

With a depreciating parting glare from Snape to the giant's umbrella they both entered the shop, leaving the semi-giant at the door.

'Good afternoon,' said a soft voice, managing to startle Harry, though Snape seemed to have been expecting it. 'I am Mr. Ollivander.' His silver eyes pierced Harry's, and then traced his scar with morbid fascination. 'Mr. Potter. I thought I would be seeing you soon' he added quietly.

Harry stepped back slightly, working to get closer to the door. That man was **creepy**, in capital letters!

'I remember your parents, James and Lily Potter, yes. I distinctly remember the day they both came to my shop for their wands. I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. Powerful wands they had too, but the wand chooses the wizard, after all.'

Mr. Ollivander pulled out a long measure tape from his pocket.

'Which is your wand arm?'

Mr. Ollivander let the tape measure go and it came to life measuring Harry on its own. Harry seemed alarmed by the rather strange measuring –but he seemed to be creeped out enough he did not dare make a single joke about it. All the sarcastic comments he had thought of earlier on vanished from his mind, too occupied keeping an eye on the strange old man. Mr. Ollivander went to the rows of boxes lining the walls and began taking dusty boxes down from different spots.

'That's enough' he said suddenly. The measure tape stopped and fell lifeless to the floor. 'Here you are, try this one. Cherry Wood and dragon heartstring. Twelve inches. Quite supple. Take it and give it a wave.'

Harry took the wand and waved it around feeling incredibly foolish, only to have it quickly snatched out of his hand by Mr. Ollivander.

'Oakwood and unicorn hair. Eleven inches, willowy. Try it.'

Harry waved the wand and it was quickly snatched out of his hand by the old man. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from snapping at him. Such rudeness!

'Willow and thestral feather. A rare combination, I must say. Ten inches and quite springy. Go on, give it wave.'

Three destroyed pieces of furniture and thirty-two wands later, Harry was ready to give up and look into a custom-made wand somewhere else. Ollivander, however, seemed to get more excited with each failed attempt.

He took another wand and reverently held it out to Harry.

'I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, 11 inches, nice and supple.' (1)

Harry took the wand. For a moment nothing happened, as he once more stood there, feeling stupid. Then a sudden warmth engulfed his fingers. Wishing the whole experience was already over; he raised the wand above his head and brought it swishing down. A colourful mix of sparks erupted from the tip, and a much-relieved Harry let out a tired sigh. At last! His relief was short-lived, however, as Mr. Ollivander cried 'Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious...' (2)

'Sorry,' said Harry, feeling slightly peeved 'but what's so curious?'

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare once more, and the teen had to resist the urge to smack himself. Why, pray tell, did he have to ask?

'As I said before, I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it's brother -why, its brother gave you that scar. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -terrible, yes, but great.' (3)

Harry shivered, feeling nauseous. He didn't know what was worst; Ollivander's declaration about his "greatness" or the way the old man had spoken about Voldemort, almost reverentially.

He paid the seven Galleons Mr. Ollivander asked for and got out of the shop as fast as he could, a pale-looking Snape –well, paler than usual, in any case- hot on his heels.

The sunny disposition of the alley seemed to lift their spirits after the dusty, dark shop, though Harry spent the next five minutes ranting on what a pervert Mr. Ollivander was, for good measure, as Severus tuned him out.

Their next stop was Flourish and Blotts, the bookshop.

'Damn. This is a big bookstore.' commented Harry as they stepped inside. 'Think they have a catalogue or something?'

Severus directed a scathing glare at him, then muttered:

'I will be in the Dark Arts section. Find me once you have all your books.'

Finding himself suddenly alone in the shop, Harry shrugged and started looking for his schoolbooks. With an eye on the mischief he could cause once in Hogwarts, he made sure to buy several books on muggles and their inventions, written, of course, by pureblood wizards. To round his purchase he picked up some books on warding, history books, and everything they had on defence. He had a feeling he'd need the last ones soon. With a Cheshire smile he approached the section on prank books and started browsing.

'I need this one...' he mused under his breath, pulling an orange book titled "_One_ _Thousand Useful Spells for Pranking_" and adding it to his growing pile. 'Oh, and look at this one..."_A Comprehensive Guide to the Noble Art of Pranking_, by Ageus Livio"! Have to have that one too, and this one...'

Fifteen prank books and several scared customers later, Harry was ready to leave the store, but first he had to pay.

'I couldn't find any introductory pamphlets for muggle-born/muggle-raised wizards.' He drawled, looking bored, as he tried to distract the clerk from his purchases; he had been taking too long looking at the titles in obvious curiosity, though whether it stirred from his identity or the rather large number of volumes he didn't know. 'I presume there are none which is, economically-speaking, stupid.' He accused, looking at him dead in the eye. Really, why would someone leave such a niche open when it could be truly beneficial, financially speaking, to anyone with the most basic understanding of wizarding ways? That was all that was required for the production of an introductory pamphlet, after all.

The clerk rang his purchases quickly after that, looking lost at the question, and soon Harry was looking for Snape.

Once outside, Snape instructed Hagrid to take him to Madam Malkin's while he went to the Apothecary.

Harry let himself be steered into another shop meekly, too busy thinking of the pranks he could pull once at Hogwarts.

'I'm Madam Malkin. Starting at Hogwarts this fall, dear?' she said, smiling. Before Harry could answer she spoke again, leading him to a low stool. 'It's a little late to be shopping for school robes, but I'm sure we'll have them ready in no time dear, don't worry. Now, stand still.' She instructed, throwing a long black robe over his head, pinning at the right length with quick speed.

Snape came in just as Harry was proclaimed all done by Madam Malkin. He hopped lightly down from the stool and walked to the counter to pay for his robes.

'Do you have Hogwarts' scarves, Madam?' Harry asked politely, the only thing betraying his innocent facade his twinkling eyes.

'I have them in the House colours, dear. Which one do you want?' the witch asked kindly.

'No, that's not what I meant. I want a Hogwarts scarf, with all Hogwarts colours.' He explained, eyes wide and voice sweet and shy.

'I'm afraid we don't have a scarf with all the colours, dear. I don't think anyone's ever asked for one.' Answered the witch, looking bewildered at the strange request.

'But...' Harry whimpered, biting his lower lip and giving her his best puppy-eyes.

Madam Malkin seemed to fight with herself for a moment, and then offered:

'I can charm you one with all the colours, dear. Would you like that?'

Harry's smile could have lit a stadium. He nodded energetically and cooed over the brightly coloured scarf the witch produced, with an embroidered Hogwarts crest. The scarf had large vertical strips in Slytherin green, Ravenclaw blue, Hufflepuff yellow and Gryffindor red, with narrower strips interspersed in silver, bronze, black and gold. He put his robes and his carefully folded scarf in bags and they walked out of the shop, leaving a pensive witch behind. Harry was betting on Hogwarts' scarves being the next wizarding trend, if Madam Malkin's look was anything to go by.

A couple of stops later they were all done. Having all his stuff shrunk with a timed shrinking charm and holding his new trunk –he'd somehow convinced Snape a stop at the trunk shop was absolutely necessary- Harry was soon side-along apparated in a little alley near Privet Drive. With a martial salute he waved goodbye to the two wizards, walking towards his house in high spirits.

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(1) Quoted directly from the book: "I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, 11 inches, nice and supple." _(Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone, p.83)_

(2) Quoted directly from the book: "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . .how curious . . . how very curious . . ." _(Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone, p.84)_

(3) Quoted directly from the book: "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. [...] It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother -why, its brother gave you that scar. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . .I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . .After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -terrible, yes, but great."_ (Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone, p.84)_

_In the next Chapter, the train to Hogwarts. (I'm still writting that part, though I've already finished with the sorting ^.^)_


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